


The Other Side of the Pond

by crimsonwinter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Hiker AU, John's POV, M/M, Nature, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonwinter/pseuds/crimsonwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John didn't move from his spot between the trees and remained calm as he watched the person across the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side of the Pond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [lereya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lereya/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [MrsDeGoey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MrsDeGoey).



> Written from the [headcanon](http://crimson-winter.tumblr.com/post/123906515239/au-where-young-fresh-out-of-uni-sherlock-and-john) I came up with when being at [this](http://crimson-winter.tumblr.com/post/124045993079/theglitterypotato-and-daughter-of-mofftiss-here) swimming hole, which this fic is based off! for Kylie, Nicole, and Lesley :)

A month after graduating university, John Watson stepped onto his bus with only one place in mind - the mountains. He wanted to breathe in crisp pine air, dip his sore feet in water that ran, melted from ice caps, into streams and lakes, and he couldn't wait to shake off the toxins of the city on a hearty hike. He'd gone up a few years ago with his mates over winter holiday, but now the summer had come and he was eager to make use of the sun.

He paid the bus fee and nodded to the scowling driver, who surely had no interest in where he was going or what he thought about. Nature enveloped his thoughts as John made his way down between the seats, backpack heavy and cumbersome as it clunked against them. He found a spot towards the front, as there weren't many people on the bus, and shoved his pack in first. 

The pleasant old woman who was at the bus stop with him hobbled in after him, sitting across the way and smiling at him with dry lips. John managed a small smile back before he looked around the bus and the bodies that filled it. The other people onboard consisted of the old woman beside him, a troop of girl guides, three scruffy hikers, a single dad with his son, and a busty woman in a pink shirt. John let his eyes wander around a bit before they settled on the woman, but she must have felt someone looking at her, because she turned her heart shaped face in his direction. He ducked down and turned frontwards just in time for the doors to close.

Crawling away from the stop, the bus sputtered into movement and began the long journey up and into the mountains. Obviously, the bus couldn't directly take him to the campsite he set out for, but without a car or money for a long cab ride, John was stuck with climbing the winding road into the hills by public transport for the moment.

The first hour, John listened to music on his walkman and watched the landscape go from grey to green. His head was stuffy from the air of the bus and the girl guides at the back of the bus kept playing _Kill, Fuck, Marry_ with celebrities he'd never heard of. He was fairly certain he heard the girls throw "the two hikers and the blond guy in the front" into the mix, but he didn't care. It wasn't his job to appeal to twelve year old girls. The woman in the back with the tits, however…

He peeked at her again over the edge of the seat. She was tan and fit, but she seemed touchy and disconnected as she directed all attention to the passing sights, legs pulled up to her chest. John admired the smooth column of her neck and the wide expanse of her thighs before he turned back around and checked the time.

Four hours to go.

* * *

He must have dozed off half an hour later, because someone jostled him awake and told him this was the end of the line. He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes and looked up at the single dad, who seemed envious at his ability to sleep anywhere. He thanked him for waking him and grabbed his pack, following the man and his son out of the bus. He thanked the driver as well, but she only grunted. 

John stepped down and looked around. He definitely had come far, as the air was fresher and the high road gave view to mountain ranges, each of which were flecked with distant trees. John took a breath and puffed his chest out, stretching his arms over his head. 

The people on the bus milled about as well, leaving the main road and trudging in the direction of a small town, whose only feature was that it lay secluded by the mountains. John wrinkled his nose, wondering if there might be a cab he could take the rest of the way, but he doubted it. 

Pursing his lips, he heard the bus doors close behind him. He turned and found the last passenger, the busty woman, stretching her back. He gulped and tried not to look down her shirt as she bent in half. Tried... and failed. 

When she bounced back up, John swallowed his nerves and approached her.

"Excuse me," he said, cheeks flushed and voice small, "Do you know how I can get to Lolly Lakes Lodge from here? Is it far?"

Her pink, plump lips crinkled into a scowl and her pretty brown eyes narrowed. "Rent a bike," she spat. 

She pushed past him, arching her back and stretching her arms above her head as he had. While all interest in her then shriveled and died, John caught himself checking out her bum as she moved toward the town. His cock gave a half hearted twitch, and he huffed. Women usually would at least _smile_ at him. 

It didn't matter, he wasn't looking for a shag on this trip. 

After the bus departed and John's young muscles sprang back to life, John took the brat's advice and wandered through the small town in search of a bike rental. While Sierraville was only one stretch of road big, it most definitely was presented as a tourist spot. The bike rental sat between the quaint bookshop and the grocery store, across the street from the inn and restaurant duo. John shuffled inside and fumbled to find the few pound notes in his pockets. The shop owner was kind and helpful.

Set with an electric blue bike and a worn yellow helmet, John tightened the straps of his backpack and rode up the near empty road, careful for cars and cliffs. 

He rode for about forty minutes in the direction the shop owner sent him, his strong calves properly worked, until he spotted the wooden sign for the lodge at the head of a gravel turn off. He caught his hopes, puffed a breath, and turned off the main road. John followed the red arrows through the trees, over a bridge, and up a high hill. 

Breathless and excited, he finally parked the rented bike at a rack, freed his sweaty brow from the helmet, and stood at the entrance of his destination. 

The lodge wasn't quaint, but it wasn't corporate, either. There were about twelve different cabins placed around a dirt area, miscellaneous buildings breaking up the matching set. A pit of charcoal sat unlit with benches and s'mores sticks gathered around it at the center. A few water spigots here and there, the place was well stocked with plumbing and electricity. The cabins were all functional and attractive, with porches and blinds and welcoming interiors. One cabin sat apart, on top of a hill beside what seemed to be a mess hall. It was shaped like a gingerbread house, pointed like an A, where the other cabins looked like small, efficient homes. Alongside some of them were white canopy tent cabins, one of which John himself would be staying in.

He moved along the dirt ground, reading the name plates on the cabins and trying to determine what the other buildings were. 

He remembered faintly being in the place once before, but he hadn't been entirely sober, and the constant life of his mates had kept him well distracted from entirely appreciating it. Now, with university under his belt, fresh mountain air in his lungs, and a healthy glow from the bike ride, he worked his way towards check-in to inform the lodge owner that he'd arrived.

* * *

The rest of the evening was spent unpacking, laying out his wrinkled clothes and setting up his few snacks and card games on the one bare shelf in his tent cabin. He wanted to stay for at least a week, although he knew the snacks and clothes might not even last him five days. He'd bought some fruit and bread and such down in the town, which he lay gently alongside his cookies and crisps. He wasn't sure if the lodge still served meals as they had when he came a few years ago, but either way, he'd be spending more time among the trees than the mess hall.

So he just quietly unpacked his stuff and hoped he could figure out a way to eat. Maybe he'd make friends and mooch off them, or maybe he'd bike back down to Sierraville and eat at the diner there. 

It didn't matter, really, he just wanted to get out and into the forest. 

Once everything was all unpacked and he'd changed his clothes and scrubbed his scruffy, lightly bearded face with a damp flannel, he settled in to rest. It'd been a long journey, and even with the three hour nap on the bus, John needed much more rest than he'd probably ever admit to.

* * *

The next day was the first full day John had. He could swim, hike, tour, or just sit out in the forest. As long as he had a snack, a swimsuit, and good shoes, he really was at the fate's whim. 

But today was hot, and he felt like taking a swim more than anything, even as it was barely ten in the morning.

He gathered a towel, some crisps, and his water bottle in his backpack, dressed in his swimming trunks and a light shirt, and set out of his tent cabin. On his way across the yard, he ran into a middle-aged woman with a mug of tea and a warm persona. She introduced herself first. Her name was Margaret and she asked John where he was off to.

"Hoping to find somewhere to swim. I've only a bike, so maybe somewhere not too far."

"Ah," the woman said, turning her face up to the morning sun and smiling as if she'd never been in a place so calming. John understood that expression quite well. After the trials and tribulations of university, the quiet, no-distraction campsite was a welcome change. 

John was lost in thought when Margaret offered her two cents, "There's a nice swimming hole just down the road there - walking distance. Definitely not as large as the other lakes around here, but nice nonetheless. If you just walk down the main road and turn off on that dirt path, you'll be there in less than ten." 

John followed her hand motions and saw what she meant. Down the gravel slope he'd biked up, there was a trail that led through flowers and trees. He turned back to her and gave her his most charming smile, "Thank you, I think I'll do just that."

Something flashed in her eyes that John didn't quite get, "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. Are you staying here long?" 

He shuffled the dirt under his shoes and tugged at the straps of his pack, "A week, at most. I don't have much supplies." 

She waved her hand as if it didn't matter, "Just go about your day. Swim some, hike some, enjoy yourself. I'm sure you'll find a way."

John chuckled, "I hope so. You say the trail is just down there?" He knew where the trail was, but he was itching to go so he kindly tried to leave the conversation. Not that it was unpleasant.

"Yes, and the swimming hole is just beyond the bridge. Have fun, love!" She patted his arm and moved along quicker than John could thank her. 

The kindness of their interaction had replaced the bitterness of the busty bus girl, and John felt his charming nature had worked once more. 

 _Maybe it's just older women?_ he thought as he made his way through the camp and down the road. He'd never been with an older woman, and while the one he'd just met wasn't particularly _un_ attractive, his seldom fantasies about older women included something a little more akin to hot, wealthy mums. He indulged in one of these fantasies as he went.

As Margaret had said, the trail was not very long or difficult. It was simply dirt and gravel winding between wild grass, flowers, and trees. Some of the trees had initials carved into them, and John felt a pang of loneliness twinge his heart.

He walked along the path, hiking boots crunching over the small rocks and twigs, the thin air fresh and slightly breezy around him. John scratched his scruff as some sort of insect flew into his face, but mostly it was a very pleasant, short walk. It was the perfect atmosphere for reflecting his own loneliness. 

His days at Bart's weren't uneventful, but mostly it was college girl hookups and cheeky handjobs at parties. Only a few times did he really find a cute guy to snog, and even then it wasn't anything worth carving into a tree.

He went back to the time his friend Seamus and he spent a drunken night sucking each other off as he drew closer to the sound of running water. 

John was flushing and eager for a new fling by the time he came upon the bridge. 

Huffing out the memory, John let the beautiful view whisk him away. The river beside him flowed between grassy banks and over mossy rocks, under the wooden bridge, and spread into a small swimming hole with cement steps leading down into it on one side. The flow then spread over water reeds and disappeared around a corner, leaving the secluded swimming spot beautiful and deep. 

John walked around the rocks and bridge and moved to one side of pond, as the other with the steps seemed to be taken. He couldn't decipher who was there, but a light blue towel and a backpack not unlike his own sat on the grass behind the steps. 

He unloaded his pack, untied his shoes, and pulled off his socks before settling into a bare area that hung over the water. Mind as calm and clear as the fresh pond, John sat and let his feet soak. He couldn't help but let out a sigh, tip his head back, and bless his luck that he was here. 

A few minutes passed like that, not so much as a peep from the other side of the swimming hole. John was about to strip his shirt and dive in when the adjacent bushes quivered and something moved out from behind it. 

John didn't move from his spot between the trees and remained calm as he watched the person across the way.

A beautiful, dark haired young man emerged from behind a bush and stretched in the sun, lean abdomen catching the morning light and in turn, catching John's breath. He was tall and pretty, with slim arms and hips. He didn't seem to notice John staring (and blushing) as he moved to sit down on the first step and put his lovely arched feet in the water. His stomach cinched up as he leaned forward to look at his submerged toes. He wiggled them and laughed. John was smitten. 

He wished he was closer so he could see the man's face better, but from his way across the water, he could tell that those high cheekbones and sharp jaw cast a very beautiful scene indeed. 

John swirled his feet in the water and tapped his fingers on his thighs, hoping that the man would notice him. He wouldn't say anything, obviously. 

If the man knew that John was across the way, he didn't look at him. He leaned up and stretched again, displaying his lovely naked chest and hips.

 _Show off,_ John thought to himself, chest and groin tight from the view. 

While he was a bit shy and somewhat nervous, nobody else was around, and the man seemed to be alone. This caused John to think his chances at conversation were relatively good. And, even though John tried not to rely on his instincts, which had often been wrong in school, the man had beautifully styled hair and his swim trunks were unusually snug. So maybe John could flirt… _at_ him, that is.

First, though, he needed to get the man's attention. Imitating a needy child, John splashed his feet in the water and resumed a calm expression, as if it were accidental.

The attractive guy across the way looked up, directly at John without so much as a hesitation. John's heart flipped and he swore his new companion could tell he was blushing. 

Neither of them said anything as John kept swaying his feet in the water, as if to say it was a beautiful day.

John's crush swelled as the man swirled his feet in the same way and smoothed his large hands down his thighs as if to respond, _Yes, it's a lovely day._

 _What are you doing here?_ John asked by tilting his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

The man looked to have cocked one of his thick brows like he was saying, _I could ask you the same thing._

John peered around the area as birds chirped lightly and a breeze ruffled the sleeves of his thin shirt. He then smiled and leaned back, hands in the dirt. _I'm just enjoying myself - enjoying the view._

 _I'm sure you are,_ John's friend wordlessly said, twisting his torso and grinning wide. 

His heart hummed, and his stomach coiled as he took the motion to mean, _You mean the view of me, don't you? You like that?_

John looked away and smirked, his skin suddenly hot. John wanted nothing more than to be over there, running his hands over that warm, sun-kissed skin, mouthing at the taut neck and shoulders. He should have felt bad for his instant attraction, but he never did. He saw a beautiful person, and he'd take any opportunity he could to touch them intimately, no matter how soon after meeting them. Short of anything vicious, of course. 

John Watson found himself grinning like a fool, cheeks taut, eyes half lidded with interest. He turned back to the stranger, who only rolled his eyes and used his strong arms to sink lower into the water, landing on the next step and immersing himself to the waist.

He made a sound mixed with a whimper and a gasp, and John couldn't help but laugh.

_Cold, is it?_

A small _Mmm_ sound vibrated from the man's chest and rumbled across the water. He raised his arms before slowly lowering them to the surface of the pond and smoothing the water in circles. He seemed pleased then, smug and comfortable, smiling softly. _It's nice once you get in._

He looked across at John, who was still just up to his feet and ankles. John made a face at the stranger that could only mean, _Not gonna go any deeper?_

 _Only if you do,_ his distant flirty smile said. 

John finally had the opportunity he needed. He suddenly straightened himself up and, without warning, stripped the warm t-shirt from his skin. He tossed it away and reveled in the cool breeze on his naked torso. He teased a look from under his lashes and swore he saw the stranger gasp, eyes wide. Was that his face flushing, or was it just a sunburn?

He then used his own arms to stretch his body down and slip into the water, quickly, all the way up to his head. It was deep and John could dunk easily. The chilled water was nice against his hot skin and tender groin, and after a moment of underwater bliss, John popped up out of the water and flipped his hair out of his eyes. The stranger was still there across the way, studying John.

John then swam with long strokes across the swimming hole, powerfully and quickly, thick arms and hips gliding him through the clear water. 

John swam closer and closer until he dunked once more and reappeared right in front of the stranger, the man's left knee just beside his face. John flipped his hair and smoothed a hand over his face and through his scruff, pulling himself up a bit and onto the step above the stranger's, folding his arms under his head and looking at the man's surprised, flushed face.

"Hello," John said, breathless.

* * *

The man was so beautiful up close, John could hardly stand it. There was a dusting of light brown freckles across his shoulders and the bridge of his nose. His eyes were turquoise like the lake and laced with black lashes, intelligent and sexy. John couldn't look away, but when he did, his gaze traveled down the man's cheeks and towards his lips, which seemed to be carved from marble with a perfect cupid's bow and a plump lower lip. 

John's eyes traveled even farther down, over his collarbone and rising chest, across his pink nipples and towards the submerged waist.

The man seemed to be inspecting John as well, and he let him. John shined him his best smile and raised his head a bit, hips and bum floating up towards the surface as the man looked on at him.

"Hello…" the stranger said with a tone that was _definitely_ sexual. His voice was deep and John was just as deeply interested. 

"What brings you out here?" John said, his confidence soaring, his charm taking charge.

The man looked John directly in the eyes as he slipped down, into the water, and onto the final step. Fully submerged, he swiveled onto his back with a sigh akin to a moan, and floated out towards the middle of the swimming hole. "Needed some time to just… float around."

John followed him out, but just as he reached him, the handsome stranger dunked and reappeared with damp curls. "I understand completely," John said as his friend slowly opened his eyes, water dripping out of his bangs, running down his lashes and over his cheeks. "That's why I'm here. Needed a break."

"You just graduated university." He didn't ask it, he said it. He floated there for a while before he swam away again.

John swam after him again. He didn't ask him how he knew this fact, first: John looked just about the age, and second: everything about this man was spectacular. Of course he'd be so sleek and cool and _knowing._

"I did," John said. "You?"

"Two years to go." The man rolled onto his stomach and dunked, leaving John to lose himself at the sight of his round, tight rear. He popped up again, facing John. 

"Well, good luck to you…" John was glad the water was cold and hid his warm, swollen groin.

"Sherlock. It's Sherlock." 

"John..." His lips looked so perfect when Sherlock said his unique name that John almost couldn't feel himself saying his own.

He mindlessly swam after Sherlock once again, eager to be close to him. Still, nobody interrupted them at the small lake. It was morning, and the sun had hidden behind a silver cloud, casting Sherlock's sleek body in grey haze. He looked like a beautiful water nymph, perhaps in another life, he was. 

"Well, John. What are you planning on doing the rest of the day?" 

It was forward and John was taken back, but then again, he'd been the one to swim over and say hello first, so maybe forwardness was a mutual trait. 

"Nothing, really. Just this." He sighed in content. Sherlock surprised him then by coming near, their damp faces bobbing above the surface, far too close to be friendly. 

The breeze swirled about above them, the trees whispering as if they knew that something fantastic was happening. The water began to chill John and Sherlock's bones, but there was an undeniable heat growing in their bodies, and the embers only seemed to glow brighter the closer they got. 

Sherlock was absolutely _killing_ John with how beautiful and seductive he looked, the greens, greys, and golds behind him making his ethereal, dark beauty stand out.

"Would you like to go on a hike." The lack of a question mark in his sentiment was somehow endearing, and John could feel the knock of his knees against John's underwater as he bobbed in front of him, gorgeous eyes suggesting something that John _very_ much wanted to be a part of.

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to Sherlock's mouth. He was completely enthralled in everything Sherlock was, anything he offered, and the something that seemed to thrive between them. "God, yes," he nearly moaned.

* * *

What happened after that was definitely what John had in mind - and more. They swam together, getting to know each other, telling stories of school and friends and eventually, past lovers. Sherlock didn't have many, where John did, but the tension between them was nothing short of newly electric.

John swam back to his rock, clambered out of the water, and dried off before walking around and meeting Sherlock on the other side, who looked utterly bewitching wrapped in his blue towel, bangs all mussed up.

They sat in the sun until they dried, then dressed and walked back up to the lodge. It turned out that they were staying at the same place, which wouldn't have been uncommon if there hadn't been a variety of campsites around the area. While they walked, Sherlock told him that he'd been up here often, and that here, there were some of the best views and lakes anywhere in the country. 

John was happy to know that and expressed that he'd been dying to see some great sights. Sherlock confirmed that they would on their hike.

They stopped off at the lodge, where it seemed Sherlock was staying in the A-frame style cabin overlooking the others. _Figures he'd have the best,_ thought John.

Sherlock invited him up and offered him better food and drink than what he'd brought. Cold water from the fridge and energy bars and chilled, freshly cut fruit. He told John to go back down to his tent cabin and change, and that when he was ready, he'd meet him down there.

John believed him indefinitely, and of course, he showed up quickly, dressed in a purple shirt and hiker's shorts. Wordlessly, he beckoned him outside. John zipped up his tent and followed him around the back, letting him lead the way up a trail, dust swirling around their ankles as they stepped heavily.

Everything was breathtaking: the vast horizon; the large, wise trees; the glistening blue lakes; the huge, sloping rocks; and the man who led him, plugging onward with all the strength and exuberance John's mates lacked the last time they came. 

Sherlock led him all over. He told him stories of when he'd come with his parents, their favorite spots, and how he and his dog would run down the trails and chase butterflies.

It would be accurate to say that with every personal anecdote and bit of knowledge about the lakes basin, John fell harder for him. His sleek, healthy body mixed with his charming, witty personality had coaxed John in.

They continued on, stopping only to look out over a lake or squint at a mountain range, snacking and drinking together to keep their strength. 

The young men went the whole afternoon that way, and John felt thoroughly worked and worn out by the time they stopped in a clearing on their way back.

The sun had hidden behind a tree as the silver clouds covered the rest of the sky. It was almost dark where they were, standing breathless inside a ring of pines.

The young men faced each other with both the weight of the adventure and the mutual feelings of freedom. Sherlock was looking at him in that way that people often looked at him when they were interested, and really, he'd been looking at John this way the entire day. John couldn't get enough of it, even as he'd come to know it well. This time, however, he came a bit closer, uncaring of the sweat drying on their sun-scorched skin or the deep huffs from exertion.

He silently dropped his bag from his shoulders, and John followed him.

The sun remained hidden, as if it were shy. 

It had reason to be, since soon Sherlock was up in John's space, and John's hands were upon Sherlock's waist.

There was a moment of hesitation as nature reclaimed its origins, attraction and physical intimacy the root of all beings. 

Then they were kissing, softly, tenderly, and with all the reverence that such a spiritual, divine place as the mountain forest deserved. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For someone who spends so much time inside, I do love nature, especially this place. Follow my [tumblr](http://crimson-winter.tumblr.com) for more johnlock!


End file.
